Draco & Patilia
by funkymoleperson
Summary: She was Diggory’s mourner, Potter’s reject, the “good” side’s butterfly, with those jeweled wings of hers. She did not trust so easily any longer, that butterfly, but he was not worried. He would break her eventually. DracoCho. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Summary: She was Diggory's mourner, Potter's reject, the "good" side's butterfly, with those jeweled wings of hers. She did not trust so easily any longer, that butterfly, but he was not worried. He would break through her chrysalis, and then crush her like all the others. And he would laugh.**

**Dedication: Overlord Guu Sama, who challenged me to try writing this pairing, even though I thought it was beyond my limitations. It may yet have been, but that is for her to judge, not I. Hope you like, Sarah!**

_Draco & Patilia_

She was pretty, he noticed, as they passed by in the hall. Not the sharp, elegant sort of pretty that the Slytherin girls had, but a more soft, helpless sort of pretty. He stopped a few steps beyond where they had crossed paths, deliberately turning and looking her up and down, slow and easy, like a hunter sizing up his prey. She paused and looked around as if she unconsciously felt someone watching her, but then another girl called out across the hallway and she hurried away before analyzing it too much. He smiled.

There were many girls like her in this school, who had an aching heart of romanticism beneath their coy exteriors. They were so delicate and fragile, so easy to catch and easy to break. He loved to ensnare them and snip off their wings one by one, usually cornering the most insecure of the flock. She wasn't at the top of the list, but she could have been, with the insecurity of one who has lost a loved one.

She was Diggory's mourner, Potter's reject, the "good" side's butterfly, with those jeweled wings of hers. She did not trust so easily any longer, that butterfly, but he was not worried. He would break through her chrysalis, and then crush her like all the others. And he would laugh.

He began with little things. A pretty butterfly clip sent anonymously in the mail was transported to her via the morning post. A new scent for her collection. A poem (obviously not written by him). A rose.

He knew she would take the bait; she was the kind of person who would never suspect someone whom she thought to be an admirer. She was the girl who had admirers and knew it. And his knowledge of her made it so easy to manipulate the odds in his favor. For now he would leave her wondering, but not for long; he was not one of patience.

When she dropped her watering can in Herbology it was he who picked it up and gave it back to her with the slightest of smiles and a nod, back to his work so quickly that she had no time to react to what had happened. But he could feel her eyes latch onto him and stay there during the rest of class.

They seemed to collide numerously in the halls – and literally as well, bumping shoulders or brushing knees. It was at these unnoticeable contacts he lingered, intent on _making_ them noticeable. And he knew she was beginning to notice.

It was the way she'd tilt her head to the side whenever he passed by, gazing at him appraisingly through her curtain of shiny black hair, and the way that whenever her friends were nearby they'd start whispering conspiratorially and he knew they were talking about him.

They hadn't started considering him yet, he knew, but the idea of _him_ had begun to float across all of their consciousnesses. He would not let any of them forget, either, memorizing _her_ schedule and simply walking by at the time she got out of class just to make the visual of him familiar to her.

Weeks went by as he sat idly playing his game of cat and mouse, making each move deliberate and watching her reactions carefully. She was from another house and was wary of his, but her type was also malleable. While he couldn't alter her bigger view of things, he could change her smaller view. Which was all he needed.

There was a coffee shop in Hogsmeade he'd seen her go into with Potter the Valentines Day of last year that she seemed to like, so he took to having tea there on the visits into town, though he detested the homely waitress and bubbly atmosphere. However, his hunch paid off on the _third_ visit, when she came in, alone for once. He was alone as well, as he had left his two lackeys to their own devices, which was not entirely wise for their concern, but for his it was what was needed.

He looked up at the tinkle of the door and the cold gust that blew in with it to see her under a pile of sweaters and scarves that were as artfully arranged as she could muster, though because of her determination to choose looks over comfort, she was shivering hard from walking through the snowfall outside.

He was half standing before he changed his decision, leaving him in an uncertain position that of which he did not like. She looked over, catching him in his moment of vulnerability, and a faint smile graced her lips. He hastily resumed his seat as she walked over, halting on the opposite side of the table and placing a hand on the back of the chair.

"May I join you?" she asked softly, meeting his eyes with a slightly superior look that amused him to no end. He nodded and gestured to the seat, though she had already begun to draw it out.

"By all means," he replied politely and took a sip of his coffee. "Would you like any refreshment?" She inclined her head and he raised his hand, flicking his wrist with expertise to call the waitress over.

When she had ordered, the butterfly across from him faced him once again, looking at him critically. "So tell me, what brings you here?"

"Good coffee and pretty girls," he said smiling disarmingly. "You?" The waitress arrived with her coffee and she took a quick sip of it, though he saw her tiny smile again and he thought that she might have meant him to see it this time. So, she was flirting with him! This game would not, perhaps, take as long as he had anticipated.

"Well, I came for the coffee, but as for what will make me stay…" she trailed off. "…remains to be seen." He leaned back in his chair, watching her as she was watching him. She was a little cleverer than he had first gauged, but it would only make this of more amusement to him. She was certainly not crying all over the place now, as last year, which _would_ change his perspective.

Shortly before the holiday break, he sent her a set of earrings with his first signed note as a Christmas present. The evening before everyone who was departing for home during the break, as the students were filing out of the hall after dinner, she singled him out and approached him, looking slightly uncertain. When she saw that he had spotted her she flashed a quick smile and quickened her pace. For a moment he thought she might give him a quick kiss, and perhaps she was thinking of it, but she did not. Instead, she hurriedly shoved a carefully wrapped package into his hands and hurried away without saying a word.

She had given him a jumper. A jumper that matched hers. Interesting. But what amazed him was that he wore it the day everyone returned and even searched her out just to say hello. This was the part of the game where he was supposed to be more…elusive and mysterious, but he was beginning to bend his own rules slightly. This would only challenge him a little more and make the game more entertaining, however.

They weren't an official "couple", or anything; they didn't walk everywhere together and hold hands, but he was sliding in that direction, making sure to build things up as high as he could before bringing it all down. Besides, he never had cutesy relationships – couldn't stand them, even when he was toying with girls who were inclined to such. They would always lean his way in the end.

Though he was wearing her jumper more and more.

They didn't talk in public, just exchanged knowing glances, him always drawing her forward, leading her on in his deception. But when they were alone on the weekends, he'd take her for walks around the grounds and be the perfect gentleman, with a touch of humor. Though he'd never admit it, with everything else going on, he was starting to enjoy the walks a little.

It was another normal evening as they walked up the steps to the castle entrance and he said to her once again, as he always did: "Did I mention how pretty you look today?" She would always smile and giggle, fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly at him, but this time she had down toned the act and looked more serious somehow, and he could feel the end of the game beginning to approach.

He leaned down ever so slightly as she leaned up and their lips met briefly in a kiss. A shyer, less experienced girl did not kiss this early in the game, but she was not one of _them_, not with two qudditch players on her repertoire, plus a few others. Their kiss also lasted a moment longer, for this was not the first kiss either had had. They broke apart and said not a word, departing in their own ways, but his thoughts were already drifting towards her downfall.

He would catch the Mudblood giving them dark looks now and again as if she was concerned for the butterfly he had ensnared, but he knew she would not interfere. For while she may worry about this particular insect, she was also disgusted by it.

At this end of the game, he would finally seek out Parkinson, who loved to watch him crush his victims and was always willing to aid. She was over fond of him, that one, but she had her uses and he wasn't going to be letting her go just yet.

The snow had melted away and been replaced by new greenery by the time he planned the ending. Though this butterfly had not been so hard as some to ensnare, he had been reluctant to crush it quite so quickly, with all his other tasks. But now he would end it.

It was lunchtime and everyone was filing into the hall from all different directions. He was coming down the stares and she was coming from the opposite direction when their eyes met. As he moved to his table to sit, she began to walk towards him for the first time, her slight wariness only showing in her eyes. It was the first time she had approached him like this, the first time she had called out and said:

"Draco!"

Instead of Malfoy. Parkinson shifted, but he stayed her for one brief moment, fingering the jumper he was wearing, as his little butterfly got closer. Then, his gaze shifted from her and he nodded at the girl beside him. His butterfly was only a few feet away when Parkinson leaned over and the kissed, in no way showing a small display of affection. The footsteps stopped. He smiled as he surfaced, looking over at her, but, though her smile had vanished, she did not look so crushed at all.

She closed the last few feet in a few deliberate steps and leaned forward, almost smiling. "Did you not think that you were the only master of the cards?" And left. He felt unsatisfied, but did not seek her company again; did not speak to her again. But he made sure she did not feel triumph by showing disappointment.

But there were times when he'd take out the jumper he'd stored away and wonder if he hadn't done something wrong.

_The End_


End file.
